"My poor child!" sighed Adam, venturing to touch her shining hair again. "Some man shall teach thee different, one day ... mayhap. Now tell me when did we sail?"
"Last night."
"And what o'clock is 't now, Anthony?"
"Late afternoon ... and oh, my poor Adam, you must be famishing! I'll go find Mr. Troy——"
"No, no!" said Adam, getting afoot, with an effort. "where is he?"
"Somewhere above-stairs, let me show you."
"No, Anthony, your poor eyes all red with tears might betray you. Pray bide here till I return."
"But ... 'tis so fearsome dark ... so close and airless."
"Ay, true enough, Anthony. This shall be amended, you shall be better lodged, and this right soon. Meanwhile wait me here ... you have my spare rapier?"
"Yes, and your pistol, I took it on the sly, Adam."
"Good! Dost know how to use it?"
"Ah no,—no indeed!"
"Good again, you can then do no great harm to yourself. I shall teach you the manage of pistol and rapier, if you will, Anthony."
"Then I will this shall be soon," cried she with a quick eagerness. "I shall feel myself so much more man-like."
"Good yet again!" he nodded. "As you know, I have taken you for my brother——"
"Half-brother!" she amended, with ghost of a smile.
"Howbeit," he continued, earnestly, "as brothers we must live on this ship ... so ... brother Anthony, let us like brothers trust one another, have faith in thyself and ... trust ever thy faithful brother Adam."
"Yes.... Oh I will, I will!" cried she, giving him both her slim hands with look and a grace so prettily feminine that he came near kissing them, but flushed at himself and shook head at her instead; whereat she drew herself up, squared her shoulders, straddled shapely legs with swaggering air and said with look and tone as much like Absalom as possible: "I'll be resolute, brother Adam, and play my part to please thee—or damme!"
"Why then," smiled Adam, "be patient awhile and bide here till I come very soon and bring you to better lodgment. Is it agreed?"
"Yes, dear brother. Yes, I'll wait unfearing. Go you now, eat and drink at leisure nor hurry for me. Come, let me aid you into your coat. So! You'll find the stairs on your right, beyond this little, narrow door. Lord ha' mercy—how dreadfully this ship sways! Be careful how you go, Adam!"
So he opened this door though with some ado, by reason of the vessel's violent lurches, and stepped into a dim spaciousness where, to right and left, loomed the grim shapes of cannon one beyond another with neat coils and hanks of rope with blocks and tackle. And presently, stumbling with his landsman's legs, he came on a steep flight of stairs up which he clambered to another deck bright with the ruddy beams of sunset and where a sweet, fresh wind buffeted him joyously.
He was blinking dazzled eyes in this welcome radiance and drinking deep of this clean, salt air when a hand clapped his shoulder, a long arm embraced him and a cheery voice greeted him.
"Adam lad! Ha, messmate, now I joy heartily to see thee or I'm a soused gurnet! Come aft to my quarters and eat whiles I talk."
"This," gasped Adam, reeling to another lurch of the deck, "this is a vastly ... unsteady ship and ... marvellous uncertain!"
"Lord love thy lubberly pins!" chuckled Absalom. "She's something lively on a bowline, I'll grant ye, and we're in mid-channel. Moreover you ha'n't your sealegs yet. Shalt soon find the trick on't."
"Not soon!" Adam sighed, staggering again. "And never in such wild storm as this."
"Storm?" laughed Absalom, folding him in long arm. "Here's no more than sweet breeze—as yet! A jolly cap-ful. Come, make fast to my girdle,—now—ease thy legs to it. Though we shall ha' more weather to-night, I reckon, and plenty on't, ay there's wind i' the offing. Now, come thy ways, brother."
Across the wide, heaving deck, through an arched doorway brave with gilding and carved work, along a dimming passage and so at last into a small cabin, very neat and orderly.
"Now lie ye down on this locker, Adam,—what, art faint, messmate? Is't thy head?"
"Somewhat!" he answered, and sinking down weakly full length, closed his eyes, half blind with the pain of his throbbing head.
"Rum!" quoth Absalom. "A noggin or say, a brace,—rum it is!" And away he strode and very soon came striding back followed by a negro bearing a large, well laden tray, an immensely tall creature with the blackest face Adam had ever seen, which face seemed suddenly split asunder by a white-toothed smile.
"This is Jimbo o' the larboard mess," said Absalom, tweaking this grinning black man by the ear; "should'st lack for aught at any time, give him a hail and he'll to thee with a run, eh, Jim?"
"Yassah, come pretty damcurse queeck, yassah!" answered the black giant, then at Absalom's nod, grinned and vanished.
"First, drink this, messmate, toss it off now!"
Submissive in his weakness Adam gulped and choked, but, revived by this potent spirit, sat up and, urged thereto by Absalom, began to eat, though with no great appetite.
"How's thy cracked sconce, shipmate, thy sore-battered nob, now? 'Twas that Abner rogue, curse his murderous soul——"
"No matter for him, Absalom, I have but my just deserts for being so fool-like unwary. Instead I would thank thee heartily for bringing us safe aboard—both of us!"
"Aha! Meaning our confounded and most confounding young female cut-throat——"
"Hush, man! You speak of my half-brother, Anthony, so pray not so loud."
"Why there's none shall hear us aft here, the crew's forrard and the rest aloft on deck."
"Then, Absalom, first and foremost, Anthony must be better lodged."
"Messmate, she shall be. I did but have her—him out o' the way below there whiles we were getting under way, d'ye see, so much foul cursing and swearing as no maid—I mean young gentleman—should hear, a right delicate thought o' mine as you must admit! And then she would by no means be parted from you, Adam, not she—or I'm a radish! For she—I mean he—must have ye in her care,—ay care's the word, Adam,—for when I brought Perks, our chirurgeon, to bleed and comfort ye, damme if she didn't withstand the two of us,—claps a pistol 'neath our noses and cries 'hands off!' Vowed you'd lost blood a-plenty, which was but truth, for you bled nobly for your size at the 'Mariner's Joy'—and there was she and Mother Martha sponging and cosseting and bandaging and yourself senseless as any poor, small corpse."
"Then God bless them!" said Adam, rising. "Now pray show me where brother Anthony may be lodged secure and in more comfort."
"Come then, Adam, 'tis aft and just forrard of the stern-chase, and, though none so large or fine as the new banquet chamber at Whitehall, it should serve! I've had all prepared, swept and garnished, a hammock slung,—ay and a looking-glass likewise,—the which is yet another delicate thought o' mine."
"A hammock?" questioned Adam.
"Ay so! If you've never slept in hammock you'll find there's no bed ashore to match it for comfort, 'specially when 'tis blowing hard and yourself bone-weary. Come and see! Easy now,—clap on to my girdle again." Thus supported, Adam stumbled a yard or so, to another narrow door whereat Absalom paused, saying:
"Here's for thy Master Anthony, confound her! And, lookee, this being the last berth to larboard no one shall need to pass this way,—except of course to fight our stern-chase pieces yonder, if needful." Then he opened this door, showing a small, trim apartment where swung the first hammock Adam had ever seen.
"Bowl ... and ewer?" he enquired, clutching at the door to steady himself against the ship's dizzy roll.
"All here, Adam, in this locker, all right and tight and shipshape. And other lockers yonder for clothes and so forth. Ay—and stout bolts to secure the door, I'll ha' ye to observe. Your pestilent brother shall be safe enough, ha?"